


Easily Bruised

by wildestranger



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-10
Updated: 2010-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-08 20:39:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildestranger/pseuds/wildestranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for <a href="http://amireal.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://amireal.livejournal.com/"><b>amireal</b></a>'s How The Heck Did I Get That Bruise? Fest. Thanks to <a href="http://pre-raphaelite1.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://pre-raphaelite1.livejournal.com/"><b>pre_raphaelite1</b></a> for the beta!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Easily Bruised

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://amireal.livejournal.com/profile)[**amireal**](http://amireal.livejournal.com/)'s How The Heck Did I Get That Bruise? Fest. Thanks to [](http://pre-raphaelite1.livejournal.com/profile)[**pre_raphaelite1**](http://pre-raphaelite1.livejournal.com/) for the beta!

Ianto moves gingerly for a week after the cannibals incident. They'd all been bruised and bloodied afterwards, (Owen pulling his trousers up to show everyone the massive bruise on his knee, asking for "shags and sympathy" at every coffee break) but Ianto had borne the signs of it longer than most. A red welt curling at the back of his neck, finger-shaped marks on his arms and wrists, an uneven cut on his forehead. Many wounds that should have been kissed better, soothed and caressed and forgotten through other kinds of touch.

Not that Jack would dare, not so soon after Lisa. Ianto still hasn't stopped flinching whenever Jack touches him; every clap on the back and nudge of the arm producing a momentary tensing in his shoulders. It's not enough to make Jack stop, of course, not when Ianto so clearly needs to be reminded that he is still a member of this team, still appreciated and needed and touched with the same fondness that Jack touches everyone else. But it keeps Jack from suggesting anything more, from letting his hands linger too often.

He watches Ianto move slowly around the Hub, pausing to breathe heavily whenever Owen whirls past him with an accidental bump, or when reaching for a extra box of camomile tea on the top shelf (Gwen has taken to drinking herbal teas in the evening and proselytises about the effects despite constant mocking from Owen) causes his jacket to pull too tightly across his shoulders. Jack keeps his hands to himself, refrains from even a friendly brush of hands on the lower back and the spread of warmth it would produce.

He is careful with Ianto, keeping a safe distance between them so that Ianto knows he won't be suddenly attacked (Jack has taken to keeping his hands behind his back when talking to Ianto, which causes great hilarity among the rest of the team), but also asking questions, paying attention, making it clear that Ianto is valued.

It takes three weeks for Ianto to start moving easily again, stepping gracefully between Jack's office and the coffee station, offering quiet smirks at some of Jack's comments. It takes another week after that before Jack dares to touch him. Ianto is bending over Jack's desk; brow furrowed in concentration as he studies the schematics of the new power generation system, when Jack walks in. He stops by the doorway, making sure that all the inappropriate comments suggested by the scenario have been suppressed before stepping inside with a cough.

Ianto doesn't move, just grunts and squints harder. That's practically an invitation, Jack decides.

"Find anything interesting?"

A supportive hand on Ianto's back, carefully placed to communicate both warmth and casualness, staying only a few seconds. Jack is prepared for a slight flinch, but the low moan and the full body shudder take him by surprise. He steps back instinctively, then pulls lightly on Ianto's arm, turning him to face Jack.

"What was that?"

Ianto is shaking his head, opening his mouth to speak when Jack interrupts.

"And don't say nothing, that was clearly something and while I'm happy to think that the barest touch from me could make you shiver like that, I don't think that was the good kind of shiver."

Ianto starts to smile at that, and shrugs.

"An accident with a weevil this morning. It's not serious."

"An accident. What happened? Weren't you supposed to just feed them today?"

Ianto starts to pull away and his gaze turns back to the desk.

"One of them had injured himself. I went in to have a look and he managed to take a swipe at me."

"Wasn't the spray working? Did you run out?"

There's a flush spreading rapidly from under Ianto's collar, turning his ears pink. Jack tells himself to focus on the task at hand and fantasise later.

"It was working. I was just…distracted. For a moment."

While 'distracted' might be a euphemism for something else (and wouldn't Jack love to believe that Ianto was distracted by thoughts of him), the more likely cause, considering Ianto's embarrassment, is thinking about his dead girlfriend. 'Wallowing in his own misery like a bloody teenager,' as Owen has taken to saying whenever Ianto looks preoccupied.

Well, never let it be said that Jack was unwilling to offer other kinds of distraction. Especially ones involving nudity.

"Right. Let's take a look at it. Shirt off."

Unsurprisingly, that causes Ianto to face him again. Jack smiles, with teeth. Ianto swallows.

"I'm sure that won't be necessary, sir."

"Just a flesh wound, right? Well, I'll just have to see for myself."

"But…"

"Humour me, Ianto."

Jack is already pulling Ianto's jacket off his shoulders, throwing it on the chair while Ianto squeaks at the cavalier treatment of his clothes, then squeaks again when Jack starts taking off his tie.

"But really, this is not…this is harassment!"

"Ianto, I promise to harass you later if you ask nicely, but now we really need to concentrate on..."

Opening the buttons on Ianto's shirt, the feel of warm flesh underneath his fingers, Jack feels his mouth go dry as Ianto shivers again. He looks up from the boyish, pink nipples, the smooth pale skin of Ianto's belly, and sees Ianto's face poised between concern and smirking. Jack coughs, and the smirk wins.

"Concentrate on what, precisely, sir?"

Jack keeps his touch light as he grabs Ianto by the arms and turns him over. "On making sure you're all right."

"I did say I was…oww. Fuck. Sorry, sir."

The bruise is larger than Jack had expected, spreading all the way down from Ianto's shoulder blades to the curve of his ass. It's darker in places, black and blue and turning into purple, with a few patches of angry red where the skin had been broken. He trails a finger down Ianto's side, not quite touching the bruise, noticing how that makes Ianto twitch and moan low in his throat.

Interesting.

He leans closer, letting the warmth of his body seep through his shirt, close enough to unsettle the tiny hairs at Ianto's nape. His mouth is almost touching Ianto's ear. "You know, there's not much you can do with bruises like this. Heat is pretty much the only thing. Something to loosen up the muscles, see. Get you relaxed."

Jack can feel the sharp intake of breath, the tension of another full body shudder as Ianto tries not to jerk away. He moves his hands up Ianto's arms, thumbs pressing lightly on the flesh above his shoulder blades.

Ianto allows his head to drop forward, and that's an invitation Jack can't resist.

Warm skin under his lips. Silky hair brushing against his nose. A quiet sigh as Ianto opens his mouth in surrender.

Later, when the others have been sent home and Jack has Ianto safely ensconced in his bed, he follows the contours of the bruise with his lips, licking the edges with a soft tongue until Ianto starts whimpering quietly to his pillow. Jack has Ianto's sweat on his sheets, and Ianto's come on his hands and mouth. There are bruises forming on his thighs from where Ianto held him down, fierce and wanton despite the pain, his teeth tracing down the muscles in Jack's belly, tasting the flesh.

Jack has never been so glad that he bruises easily.


End file.
